Winning You Back
by corneroffandom
Summary: After Wrestlemania, everything changes for one James Ellsworth.


James Ellsworth had found it easy to ignore Dean Ambrose's warning in the moment. Especially when Dean had immediately moved on to wrestling James. Which, well, he'd gotten what he'd deserved with that, but his words _do_ linger. Especially late at night, when James is alone once more, staring up into the darkness, thinking. Or worse, trapped in dreams about Carmella realizing how little she really needed him and ultimately leaving him behind.

He's infatuated, not completely stupid. He knows Carmella doesn't feel about him like he feels about her, but he can accept that. She's beautiful and sweet, kind and with a sense of humor that makes him almost choke with laughter. But they live in different states and it's complicated when they're not together. He has his daughters and she has... her life, which keeps her so busy that she rarely responds when he texts or calls her, but it's ok. He understands.

Until Wrestlemania, when everything changes in a matter of seconds. He tries to add to her chances, grabbing Becky's leg, keeping her from leaping off of the top turnbuckle- the ref is yelling at him so he lets her go just in time for Carmella to hook her legs around Becky and send her flying. Not much later, James grows impatient and brazen and tries to no-chin kick Becky, just to get slung clear out of the ring.

So the win goes to Naomi while he's down on the outside, and the remaining women trickle up the ramp once they regain themselves, downcast and annoyed. Carmella is, perhaps, more disappointed than any of the others. Barely even looks at him as she walks up the ramp, holding her midsection. He remains unseen, just a speck in her world that's following her around. He watches her back as he struggles to follow her, more than a little sore. The realization hits him in a rush and only makes him feel worse emotionally and physically. _She doesn't have romantic feelings for me, sure... but she doesn't even_ like _me, does she?_

It's a sobering prospect, something that stays with him in the weeks to come. He watches her, he observes how she talks and talks about clothes and jewelry, make up and getting another opportunity at the title belt. She even buys a polishing kit and pushes it off on him, explaining that as soon as she wins the belt, it'll be his job to polish it and keep it shining. She seems content enough to sit and tell him about all of the things she'll do as champion, but he's not sure if she actually wants to spend time with him or just no one else will listen to her daydreams for hours like this.

He's making himself sick, looking so run down that when he goes home and his baby girl climbs up into his lap and pats his face, babbling in her faulty English about daddy being sick, his heart sinks. "I'm fine, baby. Just been a long week. GIve me a hug, huh?" Her arms around him feel like heaven, warm and soft, pudgy baby skin against his and he closes his eyes, trying not to dwell on how it would feel to be hugged like this by Carmella and have her honestly mean it, not just as some means to an end.

When he's back on the road, he's made his decision. Telling Carmella is not easy, but he waits until after Smackdown that week, when Carmella has wrestled and won, defeating Natalya to become #1 contender at the next PPV. Bad timing, sure, but it needs to be said sooner rather than later so James can stop worrying his little girls every time he trudges home.

They're in the locker room, Carmella waiting patiently while James goes through the motions of counting her make up supplies to make sure no one's taken any, when he finds the courage, staring back at his reflection in her makeup case and not liking what he's seeing. "Um, Carmella?"

"Yeah, Jimmy?" she asks, blowing on her fingernails as though a speck of dust or dirt would ever dare touch Carmelle's pristine, flawless skin.

"I've been privileged to help you on your road to becoming champion," he says slowly. "I wouldn't trade a moment of it for anything." He picks his specially made jacket with her face on it up and lays it across her knees, watching as she rubs her hand over the fabric and then looks up at him, curiousity and uncertainty dark in her eyes. "But I can't do this anymore."

Time freezes as she stares at him, face darkening. "What do you mean?" Her accent grows thick, and it's clear she's upset. "You're leavin' me? Just like this?" He rocks back when she surges to her feet, suddenly seeming ten feet tall. "After everything we've gone through together? You'd be nothin' without me!"

Possibly true- he was circling the drain after AJ defeated him so easily, and he'd known it... but still. Her rage startles him, leaves him scrambling for _something_ to say, to hold onto before he loses his conviction. "Maybe, and maybe I'll go back to that, but this is..." He struggles for a good word to describe what they'd become. "This isn't working, Carmella. It _hurts_ , ok? I like you so much and I know you'll never feel the same way about me, and that's fine, really, it is, but you don't even _like_ me, so... you should probably find someone who really makes you happy, and... things will be better, right?" He's so earnest as he looks at her, wanting nothing more than for her and his daughters and everyone around him to be ok, and to not be affected by the choices he'd made when he began to entangle his career with hers.

She looks startled, says nothing as he slowly wanders around the room, collecting his things before stopping in front of her one last time. "Jimmy..."

He takes her hand, gives it a simple squeeze. "Take care of yourself, princess. I know you're gonna be great, yeah?" He wants to hug her, say something else, but this doesn't feel like the place or time. So he offers her one last, weak smile, before leaving the room. It's hard, it hurts, he feels like the breath is being stolen from him with every step, but he knows it needs to be done. So he walks until he's in the main locker room and finds himself staring blankly at the people who barely tolerate him, Dean Ambrose, Fandango and Breeze, Ziggler, so many people that it makes his head spin a bit.

He squares his shoulders and walks inside anyway, aware that this is his decision, this is what will come of it from now on.

-x

He has a match against Apollo Crews to open the show up the following week, relieved when Crews seems to take it easy on him, wrapping the match up as quickly as possible. He's backstage, licking his emotional and physical wounds when Carmella's music hits and he listens through the walls, missing her so deeply that it aches. Knowing that there's nothing he can do, he heads to a monitor and listens as she commentates a match between Naomi and Alexa. She eventually involves herself, beating Naomi up before Alexa tires of it and grabs her by the hair, slinging her away and locking her up in the keylock which gets the crowd going.

Daniel interrupts eventually and announces that the next PPV will see a triple threat between the three women in the ring and Carmella watches on helplessly, still hurting from the submission hold, while Alexa and Naomi sneer at each other, the original #1 contender all but forgotten behind them. James aches for her as he trudges back to the locker room, eager to leave the arena and find a distraction from how poorly things are going for them both.

Despite his resolution in his decision, he can't help but think if he'd been out there, she would've been spared. _But,_ a whispering voice reminds him, _if you had been, that probably would've been you in the keylock while she ignored you._ He grips the straps of his bag tighter and shakes his head against the ugly thought, changing clothes quickly so he can leave.

That Sunday, he's backstage, watching as match after match goes by. Carmella is around, preparing for her match. They'd actually bumped into each other at one point and she'd forced a weak smile and asked him how he was doing. He'd stuttered out a quick _fine_ , but before he could ask about her, she'd brushed past him and disappeared into the sea of people bustling here and there to put the show together. He exhales at the memory and then sits up when Dean Ambrose enters, sitting down next to him. His title belt hangs, tarnished, from slack fingers and James flashes back, briefly, to Carmella's unused polishing kit. Wonders for a moment what she's done with it. "What are you doing, James?" he asks, fingers bridged lax between his legs.

"What do you mean, what am I doing?" James doesn't want to look at Dean, still somewhat guilty from what he'd done to him. How easily he'd trashed their friendship. "I'm watching the show."

"You're watching her," Dean picks. "I thought you listened to me and ended it before things could get worse."

"I did," James mumbles. "But I still care about her. I can watch her wrestle and not want to be with her, though."

"Sure," Dean says skeptically. "Look, man, we're not friends, but I've been kinda where you're at, used by someone and thrown away but still wanting to be with them despite everything in me saying I shouldn't. Don't give into that urge, because she ain't changin'."

James wants to say a lot of things. _Yours changed, he evolved and wanted forgiveness, and you gave it,_ but he finds it easier just to keep his thoughts to himself as he watches Naomi and Alexa treat Carmella like she's pointless, has no place in this match, despite the fact that she's the rightful #1 contender. Dean's still talking when James finds himself on his feet and halfway to the curtain before he's really thought anything through. The ref is distracted, the crowd is booing him loudly, everything's so heightened and sharp. He's at the ring, he's grabbing Naomi's feet and stopping her from hitting another painfully limber move on Carmella, which gives Carmella time to recover, dropping Alexa into the code of silence, and Naomi can do nothing but watch because James has ahold of her obnoxious sneakers which are tied tightly to not slip off, and he's low enough that the referee can't see him, focused solely on the submission hold, and finally Alexa screams and taps out, unable to break out of the hold or get to the bottom rope as the world before her goes blurry at the lack of oxygen.

Carmella looks confused when she untangles herself from the hold and sits on the mat, staring blankly at James as he slowly stands up at his full height. His face is blank as the realization of what he's done washes over him. Naomi is squeeching at him, about to run out and attack, when his brain catches up with the reality around him and he quickly walks up the ramp, not wanting to be here anymore. He's out of the arena and gone before he can fully breathe, finding himself back at the hotel, unable to lock himself back in his room and pacing around the halls, mumbling to himself. He's not sure what he did, why he did it, how it all happened.

When he bumps into Dean, he jumps back and grabs at thin air before realizing what's going on. "Sorry," he mumbles. "I, uh. I should go."

"No, wait. Before you continue pacing around and take my lunatic title from me because of all of the people you've been weirding out the last hour, come here." Dean grabs his arm and drags him down the hall, taking him into his room and pushing him onto the bed. "Take a breath, have a drink. Calm down."

"I don't know why I did that," James mumbles, still dazed. "I'm supposed to be... I'm supposed to be done. Why..."

"It's complicated," Dean sighs, knowing all too well. "I chased Seth for _months._ It's hard to get them out from under your skin once they're there."

James nods, rubbing his eyes. "You're not wrong." He feels so tired, worn down to the bone as he sips at the water. "I should go back to my room. Thanks for the water," he says once the silence turns awkward and stifling. Except that when he stands up, he begins to waver and Dean quickly pushes him back onto the bed.

"Just sleep," he says. "I ain't tired, and you clearly are not going to make it to your room like this."

James makes a face. Considers declining, but ultimately falls back onto the pillows and curls up in the bedding, falling asleep almost immediately. His dreams are weird, muffled images full of her voice, and he wonders what exactly is going on when he hears voices, and shuffling, then _her._ Waking up is a chore, his eyes are gummy, his limbs feel weak, and he's confused, but all he can focus on is Carmella standing at the foot of the bed, staring at him while Dean stands next to her, his arms crossed and a petulant look on his face like he can't believe she's in his hotel room either. James clears his throat, squints. "Princess?"

It slips out, he's not sure why, but her face, lined and tired, lights up just a little and he realizes he's only been asleep half an hour or so. "James, we need to talk," she says quietly, and her voice sounds so defeated. It's not becoming for a champion at all.

He worries that maybe he hallucinated that, maybe she didn't win, maybe it was all a dream but his eyes shift and no, the belt is in her hands, pressed absently to her chest so he sits up and nods, moving to stand immediately. "Yes, we do." He wants to be done, but he needs to hear her voice more, maybe try to get this heavy weight off of his chest that's been there since he so abruptly ended it with her.

"Can we?" She motions towards the balcony, their best chance at some privacy without leaving the room or squeezing into Dean's bathroom.

"Sure, yeah." James gets tangled up in the sheets a bit but frees himself in a second, following her out. It's a little chilly, quiet. The moon hangs over them in a majestic glow that gleams off of her title belt, highlights her hair and her eyes in a way that makes it harder for him just to look at her. She's exquisite in her sadness, which again makes no sense, she should be on top of the world. "Um, is everything ok?"

She hesitates for a moment, then looks up at him and the expression on her face rids him of whatever oxygen he has left. "No," she admits quietly, handing the title belt over to him. "It's really not." She stares out at the darkness surrounding them before turning to face him. "I received everything I ever wanted tonight." She rests her hand on the plates of the belt and shakes her head. "But it all felt empty, y'know? I looked up and there you were, and then I blinked and you were gone. You didn't even wait to congratulate me, or- or anythin'. Why did you help me, James? I thought you were done?"

She sounds bitter, she sounds sad, she sounds a multitude of negative emotions that she shouldn't right now, especially not because of him. "You... I..." He struggles for a moment before just giving up and going for the truth. "They were overlooking you out there, underestimating you. No one should treat you like that, so I just... wanted to even the odds. I'm sorry if I overstepped." He tries to hand the belt back to her but she shakes her head fiercely, tears in her eyes. "Carmella, no, don't cry-"

"You idiot," she says, no malice in her voice as she wipes at her face. "You really think I don't like you, Jimmy?" Paces a few steps away from him and presses a knuckle to her lips before spinning back towards him, hair going every which way. "You're probably the best thing that's ever happened to me," she admits, biting down on her lip afterwards. "You're funny, and even when things are at their worst, you continue to shine with this kinda optimism that I ain't ever seen before, especially in _this_ business. I could be bitchin' about anything and then I look up and there you are with this quirky smile tellin' me it's ok, we'll get 'em next time, and no matter what I or anyone else do, it ain't ever knocked you down." She swallows. "I guess, until it did."

"Carmella-" he tries to interject, but she holds a hand up to him, her fingers ghosting his skin.

"Lemme finish. James, I'm a Jersey girl. We're all made of tough stuff 'cause we gotta be. Lotsa hustlers there who'd just as soon stab you in the back than actually try to help ya out, you know? You have a thin skin, you're toast within five minutes if you get in with the wrong people. So from playin' on the street, to going to school, to living on my own trying to make it as a hair dresser before Enzo and Cass found me, I've always had to hustle just as hard to keep afloat. And yeah, it makes it hard to trust people, it makes it hard to be kind and lovin' and all of those other things that you find so easily." She exhales, licks her lips, and meets his eyes for the first time since walking out onto this balcony. "But I do like ya, Jimmy, and I want to be better. I'm tryin', swear I am. But I can't do it without ya, because without you, I'm just me, and I... I'm not sure that's who I wanna be anymore."

He digests what she's saying, staring at her. There's no sign of dishonesty in her words, or in the pain in her eyes. He looks down at her belt, running his fingers over the custom plates on the side, her large initial with the earring like hook. It's the closest he's been to her belt ever, and it's beautiful. Durable but somehow vulnerable all the same, something precious to be protected and guarded. Like her. He tucks the belt in properly and then steps up to her, handing it to her. She looks crestfallen at this response, like he's declining her, her words, but then he reaches out and brushes her hair out of her face. "I get it now. It... it's ok." He feels foolish for putting her, for putting himself, through this the last few weeks when all he needed to do was _talk_ to her, maybe get a proper gauge of the situation. _But,_ he reminds himself, _maybe she needed this time to realize it was time for a change too._ "I'm so sorry for bailing when you needed me, Princess."

She lets out a sound that's suspiciously close to a sob before throwing her arms around him, the belt pressed tight between them. It's painful but beautiful all the same and he hugs her back, having missed this kind of thing so much the last few weeks. All of the moments between them- her coming to his rescue and calling him uniquely attractive, her taking him clothes shopping, how tight she grips his hand when they skip together down to the ring, and how she had stood up against John Cena for him, and so many other illuminatingly beautiful moments- comes rushing back to him and he hugs her tighter, exhaling. "I missed you," she mumbles into his shoulder and he nods.

"I missed you too." They stand there for a long moment before he pulls back and stares into her eyes. "So does this mean Carmellsworth lives again?" She nods, tears building in her eyes once more, and he grins at her, gently wiping her cheeks with his thumbs. "I hope these are happy tears this time."

"They are." She sniffs and gives him another squeeze before pulling away a couple of inches. He's about to say something when she leans back in and gives him a soft kiss that seems more like flying than any sort of actual pressure against his lips. He turns a bright shade of red and gazes at her in awe, Carmella tilting her head curiously and smiling at him. "C'mon, Jimmy. Let's get out of here. It smells weird in this room, haven't you noticed?"

He wants to laugh. He wants to shout at the roof tops of the buildings around them that Carmella's returned to him, he wants to do so many things all at once while she drags him back through Dean's hotel room and out of the door, leaving Dean to gape after them in bemused frustration. Out of every wild thought going through his mind, he ultimately settles on asking, "Soooo where's your polishing kit?"

Her light, tinkling laughter sounds like music to his ears and he beams, following her cheerfully once more.


End file.
